The morning after
by spiketherat
Summary: Set after 1x03. The morning after the night before. Oz and Toby find out what it's like working a shift together now there are no secrets.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Another one from me. I hope you think it's okay, let me know if it is. This one has been beta'd, and a huge thanks goes out to her for her help. Any mistakes are all mine though.

Spoilers for 1x03.

**The Morning After - Chapter 1:**

* * *

His head hurt.

Toby pressed his face deeper into his pillow and screwed his eyes shut. Waking up with a headache was not unusual, but the added joy of a full blown hangover was out of character. "Damn," he murmured, cursing the fact that he had to work this weekend. He was normally careful not drink so much if he had a shift, and it took a moment to remember what had pushed him into last night's drinking fest.

He had told Oz.

It all came crashing back: Taz, the missing girl, and then Oz and himself on his roof, emptying his fridge of beer, bottle by bottle. He sat up groaning and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. He'd told Oz. "Oz knows," he said aloud to the empty flat, struggling to believe he'd really done it, really told someone.

Standing, he headed barefoot across the cold floor to the kitchen area, raiding his aspirin stash on the way. He washed a couple down with a glass of water before flicking on the kettle. He'd imaged telling Oz many times over the last few years and now he realized just how badly he'd underestimated his friend. He'd always figured people would react with fear and anger if they knew about him, but now he wondered how he could ever have thought Oz would respond with anything other than simple acceptance.

The more he thought about it though, the more a nagging doubt was beginning to surface: Oz wasn't known for his discretion, and a misplaced word or two could put them both in danger. Then there was the issue of how accepting Oz really was--sure he had thought it was cool yesterday when they were drinking and talking about girls, but what about when he time to think about it? They spent hours and hours together every day in their rig. What would happen when Oz realized that Toby could read his every thought? Would the invasion of his privacy be too much? Would Toby be looking for a new partner soon?

The sound of the kettle boiling interrupted his thoughts and he made himself a coffee, trying not to worry. His mobile was on the counter and he flicked it on. He had five unread text messages, all from Oz. Taking a long sip of his coffee, Toby opened them each in turn:

_Wow that was 4 real right not a big joke._

_Course not a joke. Just wow._

_Got idea tell you at work 2morrow._

_Cars' at yours don't 4get to pick me up 4 work._

_Don't 'zone out' and crash my baby._

Toby was smiling by the time he read the last one, the worry muted slightly; hopefully things would be okay. That said, being late or crashing his partner's car wouldn't go down well. He emptied his mug and headed for the shower; he didn't have long to get ready, and he needed to work on shutting himself down and getting a grip on his telepathy if he was going to drive.

***************

Ryan was out of bed and dressed the second he woke. He shoveled breakfast down in record time, then grabbed the bag he'd packed the night before and shouted, "Yeah mum," in reply to the request to 'be careful' as he headed out the door.

The sun was up but the sky was dark, and it looked like it might rain later. That didn't matter, though, where he was going. The den would be dry, and they could light a fire if it got cold; they'd made sure it had everything they needed.

It was Ryan who had found the place and set it up. For weeks now he'd been nicking things from his dad's office and taking them to the hideaway deep below the storeroom he'd discovered in an abandoned factory. The other boys, especially Richie (who until then hadn't had a moment to spare for the rich kid from Millen Street), had been completely wowed. Now Ryan was Richie's 'second' and he had more than a small say in what the group of boys got up to. When they saw what he'd brought with him today they'd be even more impressed.

He cycled as quickly as he could across the park and through the thick trees at the far end where the ground dropped away sharply for half a mile or so. Beyond the ravine was the wasteland where the factory was, and where the others would be waiting for him.

***************

Oz was waiting for him on the sidewalk when Toby pulled up, and he was half tempted to let go of his fine control over his gift to check whether Oz was still okay with everything. Before he had chance, though, Oz opened the passenger door and stuck his head in. "Out--I'm glad you got her here in one piece, but I'm driving."

Toby obligingly got out and jogged round to the passenger seat. "Hey Oz."

"So," Oz began as he got himself sorted and pulled out into traffic. "No, I haven't told anyone, yes I still think it's cool, and yes I have a million more questions, only a few of which involve women--well, more than a few, but…" Oz trailed off.

For a second Toby was speechless. He glanced across at his partner. "I thought I was supposed to be the mind reader."

Oz snorted, "You had that look. Well not _that_ look"--he opened his eyes as wide as possible and tilted his head slowly--"but you had that frown you get when you're stressing about something," Oz frowned seriously as well, parroting Toby's expressions with remarkable accuracy.

Toby looked out the side window in silence for a moment, embarrassed that he'd underestimated his partner again. There were a growing number of people and cars on the streets now and the distraction of talking to Oz had diverted him from keeping his senses closed off. The low, chattering hum of thoughts sounded in the back of his mind, reminding him of his headache. "Sorry, Oz," he apologized quietly. "I don't think you're going tell anyone, it's just I'm not used to talking about this… thing."

Oz seemed to think about that for a moment before asking, "Who else knows?"

"No one really, just Ray," Toby replied honestly.

Oz nodded. _Well that explains that. Bit freaky though, hanging out with a shrink._

Toby bit his lip as he picked up on Oz's stray thoughts and resisted correcting him on Ray's profession. Oz and he had talked about nonsense last night: party tricks, what women were thinking about, and how to get on Ryder's good side, but nothing of consequence. Today he realized he'd be in for a lot more questions, and if he brought up Ray and the nature of their relationship he'd have to talk about unpleasant aspects of his childhood--such as his abandonment. Toby wasn't sure he was ready for a heart-to-heart with his partner about that just yet. Oz seemed to pick up on his reluctance to talk; he didn't push any further, and they drove in silence for a while.

It wasn't until they were parking up at work that Toby realized they hadn't started to talk about any of his partner's questions. "Oz, those things you want know…"

"Hey," Oz interrupted, looking over as he swung his door open, "don't worry about that. We've got twelve hours stuck in the rig together. I reckon we'll cover most of it by the time we knock off."

Sighing in despair, Toby groaned and dragged himself out of the car; it was going to be a long shift.

***************

They dumped their bikes round the back of the old factory in an old shed that was hidden well away from view. They weren't worried about them because no one really came down here, and anyway a couple of weeks ago Richie had produced a chain and massive padlock from somewhere muttering about thieves being everywhere. They'd all laughed knowing full well that Rich had probably stolen it.

With the bikes locked up safely, they clambered onto the roof of the single storey office and through the broken window at the back, where they'd pried the corner of one the boards loose. A piece of string through the nail hole pulled the board tightly back into place when the four of them were all through, and from the outside no one could tell anyone had been there.

The inside of the factory was dark but the four them had flashlights, and they flicked them on as they made their way across the small platform of the second floor and down the metal stairs to the ground. Old machinery of various shapes and sizes took up most of the space in the huge expanse of the factory floor, but they didn't waste any time there. Running, they headed through a small door hidden at the back of the factory and down the rotten crumbling steps into the blackness of the storerooms and old tunnels below.

***************

Toby was, as usual, at the rig and waiting a good few minutes before Oz was ready to head out. He'd thought about getting in the driver's side--now that Oz knew he wasn't about to have a stroke or a seizure at any moment it was probably time he pushed the driving issue. The big ambulances weren't easy to handle or maneuver and, although he didn't mind not driving, it was likely he would have to again at some point; he needed to keep his hand in. The nagging headache and the thought of being on the receiving end of a twelve hour interrogation made him change his mind, so he pulled himself in the passenger side and said nothing to Oz when he wandered up moments later and took the keys off him.

Five minutes later, just as Oz was pulling out from the ambulance bay, they got the call from dispatch.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Thanks for the reviews. Here's part 2

**The Morning After - Chapter 2:**

* * *

The old factory had once been an important part of Toronto's manufacturing economy, but it had been abandoned for too long. Dirty, heavily weathered boards covered most of the small windows and doors, and wildly curving streaks of red and blue spray paint covered the crumbling brick walls, marking out the territory of local street gangs.

Across the ravine, other industrial buildings had been touched by the hand of regeneration. The red brick of exclusive flats almost glowed in the morning sunlight and the revitalized building rose up between the thick green of well nurtured trees and manicured grass parks and gardens.

Eventually that would be the fate of this old factory. City funds weren't unlimited though, and this side of the ravine, with the old sewer networks and quarries--and which backed on to less exclusive neighborhoods--would always be at the at the back of the minds of the planners and purse holders.

Toby stood and looked up at the building as Oz got their gear. "What do you think?" he asked, and then frowned slightly as he realized what a strange question it must seem now that Oz knew the truth.

"You tell me," Oz said, scrunching his face up in feigned concentration.

"I don't look like that." Toby snapped back defensively.

"You do. Anyway," Oz continued, turning back to look at the derelict building, "we both know what I'm thinking, so what are you thinking?"

"Hmmm, a teenage boy phones 911 claiming his mates are badly hurt in a warehouse in the middle of nowhere and doesn't stick around to help out?" Toby paused for a moment, trying not to get angry about the situation. "Prank.".

"Yeah," Oz sighed in agreement, "prank."

Prank calls were the bane of every paramedic's life, especially on the weekend shift or during the holidays. Every school visit and education program they did they spent time trying to emphasize the damage, and wasted time, prank calls could cause. The message never seemed to sink in. Toby eyed up the looming brick walls of the factory; it was boarded up tightly and, apart from the graffiti, there was no sign anyone had been there for years. "We can't leave without checking it out." He hoisted his kit over his shoulder and, without waiting for Oz, headed off.

The front of the factory was dominated by two huge metal sliding doors, but they were locked together by a thick chain and padlock. Toby gave it a tug; the lock was solid, and it was clear no one had gotten in that way. Moving on, he headed round the side of the building to an area where a small office jutted out. Close up the signs of decay were stark; the boards on the windows round the office were well weathered and blooms of mould were growing out from every crack. The door to the office had a thick metal bar drilled onto it, which was padlocked to a loop on the frame, but the frame itself was rotten and coming away from the wall.

Toby looked around. The building seemed secure, and as he 'listened' he couldn't sense the thoughts of anyone except Oz. But they couldn't leave without doing a proper search, and putting down on the report that he knew the place was empty because he was a telepath was not an option. After weighing up the alternatives, he lined up with the door and broke the lock with a swift, well placed kick.

"Nice." Oz made him jump. "You've been working out?"

Toby snorted and handed Oz a chunk of door frame that had broken away. It was more like sponge than wood. "It was either break in or wait an hour while the security company found someone to open up for us."

Oz waved a hand in mock surrender, "Hey, I'm not complaining, let's just get this done so we can get on with some proper work. You can take the heat from Ryder though if he kicks off about it."

Nodding in agreement, Toby led the way into the office. The small room had been gutted and, though marks on the walls and floors indicated where desks and chairs had been, it was obvious that when the factory had closed all the useful equipment had been taken. The same couldn't be said for the factory floor. They had to flick on torches to see once they went through the door into the main area, but once they could see… Oz let out a low whistle, and Toby agreed with the sentiment. The factory was huge. Except for an open second floor at one end, it was single storey and stretched nearly the full length of the building. Huge bits of machinery stood idle and rusting between dusty work benches.

"Hello! Anyone here?" Oz's shout echoed in the open space and they both stood quietly waiting for a response. There wasn't one, either verbally or as an answering thought.

Taking a couple of slow breaths, Toby closed his eyes and focused completely on listening. His telepathy wasn't really something he could control overtly; 'open up', 'listen', 'shut down'--they were all phrases he used to describe and make sense of the things that were happening in his head. In reality telepathy was little different from hearing or sight. As Ray had once said, 'try not to hear a noise without putting your hands over your ears, or not to see something without shutting your eyes.' Cognitive Psychology and the theories of perception hadn't been of any interest to Toby as kid, but he'd lapped up the tricks that Ray had given to him like a drowning man, desperate for some relief from the whirlwind in his head. Now he turned his focus away from everything but his telepathic sense, trying to pinpoint the most distant stray thought. For a moment he thought he felt the trickle of something, but then it was gone and there was nothing but the familiar wash of Oz's mind. Idly he thought how nice the quiet was.

"Hey!" Oz's shout, from across the factory, broke his concentration. "We are supposed to be searching." His partner sounded annoyed.

"I am," Toby called back and waved at his head.

Oz started to make his way over, flicking his torch up to shine right into Toby's face. "You can do tha…"

Toby didn't hear the rest. It hit him like a sledgehammer to his skull. His vision, already blinded by the glare of the torch, whited out completely. Thoughts, in the form of images and sounds, flooded through him, tearing away his consciousness. Flashes too quick to grasp pounded at him, and then, as suddenly as they had come, they were gone.

"Toby?" Oz's voice was muffled by the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

His heart was thumping wildly in his chest and he had to take a couple of gasping breaths before he whispered, "Not a prank." Gradually, as his heart rate begin to slow, his awareness, the sense of self that had been ripped away, began to return. He was leaning heavily against one of the workbenches, his torch and bag discarded on the floor. Carefully he pushed himself upright and got his bearings.

"What the hell was that?" Oz had crossed the huge factory floor and was next to him, still shining his torch in Toby's face.

"Oz." He put a hand up defensively, flinching away from the light. "I'll explain, just give me a minute." He took another deep breath and shut his eyes as Oz nodded and backed away slightly, lowering his torch. Pushing aside his partner's confused thoughts, Toby opened his mind again and tried again to get sense of anyone else in the factory with them.

Nothing.

_Okay, not a problem, too far_, he thought to himself. Opening his eyes, he tried a different tactic: as best he could, he replayed the images from the 'beacon' in his mind. He flicked his torch to a window above the rotting platform that made the second floor and then turned to Oz. "They came in there," he tracked the beam of light along the second level and then down the metal steps and across the factory floor to a small door in the far wall that neither of them had noticed, "and went through there."

"Woah." Oz was looking at him open jawed. "That's really freaky man."

Toby frowned at his partner in annoyance at his choice of words before grabbing his gear and jogging towards the door. "Oz, they're here and they're hurt."

The door lead to a tiny room with bricked up windows and a set of steep wooden steps leading down into blackness. Toby shone his torch down and could just make out the ground below. Swinging his bag onto his shoulder, he moved to head down the steps

"Hey man, wait!" Oz had caught up and was looking flustered. He peered down steps into the gloom. "Maybe we should call it in, you know get some backup out here?"

Toby glanced at him briefly. "And say what? We know there's someone here because my 'freak' partner got a telepathic hit off them." It came out more harshly than he meant and Toby knew he was being oversensitive, but with the 'hit', the pain in his head had flared to mammoth proportions, and from what he'd seen the kids were in a bad way. They didn't have time for Oz to start questioning him now.

"That's not what I meant and you know it." Oz sounded offended. "We aren't going to be able to transport them out without help, that's all." Oz paused, peering down the steps into the gloom thoughtfully, and Toby waited impatiently for his decision. "Okay," Oz gestured down, "let's find them."

Toby rubbed a hand across his face and started down the steps, trying to calm himself. The beacon had gotten his adrenaline going and fired him up; he knew that Oz didn't really think he was a freak and he shouldn't have implied otherwise. Distractedly he hurried on, trying to think of a way to apologize.

The steps were old and damp and in places the rusty nails had broken away, leaving the boards cracked or loose. Toby was only half the way down when he lost his footing. A cracked step bowed and then shifted under his weight and his foot slipped, launching him forward and into a plummeting fall down to the floor below.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Here's part 3, the rest isn't too far behind.

**The Morning After - Chapter 3:**

* * *

He landed shoulder first and yelled out as something made a sickening crunch. Pain flared from the joint down his arm to his finger tips and out across his back. For a second his vision wavered and the world blurred out of focus as his stomach rolled at the pain.

"Toby!?" Oz's panicked voice was right by his ear, but it sounded muffled. Dimly he wondered if he'd hit his head as well.

"Ow." He tried to roll off his injured side and on to his back.

"Woah, steady, don't move." Oz's cool hands were suddenly on his head and neck, at first trying to stop him moving, and then supporting him gently as he shifted positions. "You could have broken something just…"

"Oz, I'm fine," Toby interrupted, but decided not to try to sit up just yet.

"You're not fine; you've just fallen 6 feet and landed on your head. You could have..."

Toby tuned out Oz's worried rant and focused on working out just how fine he actually was. His head hurt even more than it had earlier, and he guessed by the ringing in his ears and slight blur round the edges of his vision he'd probably hit it on the way down. His back and neck felt fine, except for the brutal pain radiating from his right shoulder. Cautiously he tried to move his right hand and was relieved when he felt his finger tips brush together without any numbness.

"Keep still," Oz warned, and Toby felt his partner's hands leave him for a couple of moments.

_Damn, no signal. Ryder is going to kill us... if we get out of here alive. Why do I let him drag me into this stuff…?_

Despite the pain, and the circumstances, Toby found himself grinning, Oz's thoughts had a strange 'echo', a reverberation to them; he was amused as he wondered if it was the telepathic equivalent of seeing double. If it was, Ray would be intrigued. It was a really weird sensation, and the thought of trying to explain it to Ray made him chuckle.

_Oh god he's laughing, maybe he's really lost it?_

"Oz!" Toby used his good arm to reach up and wave a hand in front of his partners face. "Oz, I'm fine, just laughing at…" He paused because it was just too complicated to put into words, so he waved at the side of his head. "I'll explain later. Help me up."

"No. Not a chance." The response was swift and firm. "You could have broken your back or anything. We need to check you out properly." To make sure he didn't move Oz shifted his grip, pressing him to the ground by his shoulders.

The extra pressure made the pain flare up into white hot agony and Toby grunted loudly, gasping for breath "Oz. Stop!" He used his good hand to forcibly push his partner away.

"Shit, sorry, sorry." Oz sounded mortified.

Toby forced his teeth to unclench and let out a shuddering breath, "My back's fine. It's my shoulder."

"Oh, oh shi… okay, I'm sorry." Oz leaned back in and eased back the right side of Toby's jacket. "Let me take a look at it before we think about getting you up."

Toby nodded and lay as still as he could while Oz shifted the jacket off Toby's shoulder and unbuttoned his shirt before carefully probing the area. His vision and hearing were clearing and Toby was sure the injury wasn't as bad as he first thought. He flinched, though, as Oz's hand brushed a particularly sore spot. "Sorry," Oz said quietly. "It's not dislocated, but you've definitely busted it."

"Busted it?" Toby laughed despite the pain. "I don't remember that term in training, is it medical? It sounds serious."

Oz snorted "You laugh, but if it isn't busted now it will be when Ryder gets hold of us." His tone was joking but Toby could feel his concern and worry, along with the weird echo. It was strange that it was still present, especially as the rest of his senses had cleared. Letting his eyes drift shut Toby concentrated on Oz's thoughts. They were all jumbled and confusing. He caught the sharp image of Oz leaning over him in the dark, odd angles of the tunnel lit with the light from the discarded torches; it was intercut with the 'echo' of a blurry and faded version of the same image, like some badly designed 'spot the difference'. Toby tried to focus solely on that second version, but it was like trying to grasp at smoke--as though Oz wasn't in control of his thoughts, wasn't even sure who he was or where he was.

…_head hurts…_

The thought came at him in a millisecond of clarity before the accompanying images blurred again and faded to the background. Toby flicked his eyes open and turned his head so he could see his partner. "Did you hit your head?"

Oz looked confused "What…? No, why?"

"Up," Toby demanded, reaching one-handedly for Oz. God he was stupid--because of his job he'd 'read' hundreds of semi-conscious and severely concussed people before. He should have easily recognized the weird 'tone' of the thoughts. Somehow, though, his perception of the different sources had become confused and... well, Ray would probably be able to come up with some explanation but Toby didn't have a clue what had happened.

"What is it?" Oz asked as he helped Toby to his feet.

Toby glanced at him, "They're close." He stood gingerly, checking himself out; apart from his shoulder and the ever-present headache, he was okay.

"You can…" Oz gestured as though searching for the word, "…'feel' that?"

Toby nodded absently; he realized he wasn't explaining things well, but it was hard to find the right words. Using his left hand to hold the torch and awkwardly support his painful right arm, he turned his focus to the thin thread of the injured boy's thoughts and cautiously led the way. "I can only pick up on people's thoughts if they are close enough. Exactly how close varies but the fact I can 'hear' them now means they must be near."

Oz was following him closely, hovering as though he expected Toby to collapse at any moment. "But you knew they were here when we were up in the factory?"

Toby sighed heavily. "That was different." He walked in silence for a minute thinking how to phrase it. "Sometimes if someone is in distress or experiencing strong emotions I get like… a 'blast' of their thoughts, out of nowhere. I'm sorry, I guess it can look pretty intense," he added, trying to downplay the effects the 'hits' had on him.

Oz had drawn level now and was looking thoughtful. "Intense? It looks like you are having a seizure." He paused as if realizing something. "Like that day in my car." Oz didn't look happy "Is that why you fell?"

Toby let out a short laugh, "No, that was carelessness. Look Oz, it's nothing to worry about," he said, trying to reassure him. "It's a recent thing and they don't happen all that often, it's just going to take time for me to get a handle on them." God he hoped he could; he'd experienced maybe half a dozen or so since that first one in Oz's car and they still seem to strike without warning and take him out of himself.

Oz was watching him with a guarded expression, but after a moment his face softened. "Well you're not driving my car again until you do," he said, and though it was forced, Toby was grateful for the humor in his voice.

They walked on in silence until, about a hundred meters further on, the tunnel widened and opened out into a disused section of the city's sewers that ran in either direction. Toby stopped, unsure which way to go; he hadn't seen this in the 'beacon' images earlier and telepathy, he had found, was not directional the way human hearing was.

"Hey! Anyone there?!" Oz's shout made Toby jump. "It's the paramedics."

"Help, please?" The reply was quiet and sounded strained, but the acoustics of the tunnel walls provided enough amplification for it to be heard. They both spun and took the left tunnel, picking up the pace as they went.

It was only another hundred meters or so until the tunnel opened up to a large area; on the near side of the wall were some concrete steps that led up to a wide platform about eight feet high. The platform was lit with a mixture of candles and electric lights and had been decorated with blankets and rugs. Wooden boards linked the platform to a similar one on the other side of the tunnel, and below it on the edge of the concrete ledge were the two injured boys.

"Oh shit."

Toby couldn't help but agree with Oz's initial assessment. It was clear both boys had fallen from the platform. One of the boys was lying flat, clearly unconscious, with a large pool of blood round his head, and protruding from his midriff was about two feet of steel rebar. His friend, the boy whose thoughts Toby had first picked up on, was kneeling over him, his hands pressing at the base of the metal rod; tears, dirt, and blood streamed down his face.

Oz, reached them first and started checking vitals on the unconscious boy. Toby left him to it and knelt next to the other one. "Hi, my name's Toby and this is my partner Oz, we're here to help you. Can you tell me your name?"

The boy groaned in pain and looked at him as though he was struggling to focus. He blinked a couple of times and then quietly asked, "Can you help him?" His thoughts were scattered, confused, but Toby got what he needed.

"It's okay Ryan, my partner's looking after your friend. Richie's in good hands." He glanced across at Oz, emphasizing both names. Oz looked mildly surprised but kept his focus on his patient. "Ryan, I need you to concentrate on me and try and answer my questions, can you do that?" he asked.

Ryan nodded slightly, "Yes."

Using his teeth, Toby pulled a glove onto his left hand and carefully eased Ryan's hands up to take a quick look at the impalement. The wound was low, abdomen not chest, and the rebar was stopping the worst of the bleeding, which at least gave the boy a chance. Toby decided he couldn't dress it properly with one hand, so he slipped a couple of sterile pads in place and pushed Ryan's hands back down. "Can you hold that there for me for a bit?" Toby asked.

At the small nod Toby turned his attention to Ryan. Flicking on his pen light he checked pupil reaction and asked a couple of basic questions which the boy answered shakily. His pupils were sluggish, and though Ryan seemed to know who and where he was, his thoughts were confused and uncoordinated. Toby tried to keep the boy talking while he struggled to one-handedly unwrap a sterile dressing. Once he'd managed to clean and dress the head wound, he turned to face his partner. "Hey Oz, how you doing?"

Oz had just started to pack the wound round the protruding rebar and flicked his eyes from Toby to Ryan before he opened his mouth to speak. Toby shook his head slightly; in that moment he'd read everything he needed to from Oz's thoughts: blood pressure too low, breathing labored and a very serious head injury. On the whole not good. Carefully Toby indicated the pocket Oz's phone was in, and mouthed 'backup'.

Oz had made him play the 'guess what I'm thinking' game for much of the previous night and it didn't take much for Oz to catch on to using nonverbal communication. _No signal._ The thought was clear and uncluttered.

Toby nodded at Oz. "Hey Ryan, do you have a phone?" he asked gently.

"No. Richie did," came the quiet reply, "but Matty took it. There's no signal here anyway." The scattered images in the boy's head cleared for moment as he remembered something, and Toby saw a group of boys running down the other tunnel and holding phones up to a manhole cover.

"That's okay; help is on its way." Toby reassured him before turning back to Oz and pointing back the way they'd come. "Keep going until you see a ladder and a manhole cover," he whispered.

Oz looked doubtfully down at the injured boy. _Maybe you should go._

Toby shook his head firmly and pointed at Oz with his good hand; there was no way he could run or climb a ladder with his shoulder in the state it was. His expression must have said it all, because despite the doubts Toby could hear running through his mind, Oz stood, waved, and jogged back down the way they came.

Although he was out of earshot Toby whispered "Be quick" to Oz's retreating back.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

AN: We're on the home straight now. Thanks again for the reviews.

**The Morning After - Chapter 4:**

* * *

As soon as Oz had gone, Toby moved to sit by Richie's head and rested the fingers of his left hand on the boy's pulse. The near-silence in the tunnel was punctuated by the sound of strained breathing and the occasional quiet sob. A stab of doubt ran through Toby as he wondered what he'd be able to do one-handed if either boy got worse. Cautiously he shifted his right arm, testing his range of motion; he didn't get very far before the surge of pain quickly made him change his mind. For a while he sat, silently counting the pulse beneath his fingers as a distraction from the pain in his head and shoulder.

Toby didn't know how long it had been when a harsh rasping cough broke the quiet. He swore mentally to himself; he should have been paying attention to both patients. Shuffling round, he managed to support Ryan with his good arm as the coughs turned to gasps, and then retching.

"Hey, Ryan. Are you still with me?" he asked gently trying to keep the stress and worry from his voice.

The teenager spat a couple of times before he lifted his head. "Yeah," he replied weakly.

Toby rubbed him lightly on the back a couple of times. "I need you to tell me if you start to feel worse okay?" At Ryan's nod he moved back to his position at Ritchie's head. "So how did you find this place?" he asked, trying to get Ryan talking.

"Exploring," came the quiet reply.

Toby grimaced, not liking the slight slur in the boy's voice. "I used to hang out in a few places like this, mainly on the other side of the city." Mainly when he was running from kids that wanted to beat him up or foster families that didn't really want him. Ryan didn't respond, so Toby pushed on, "Ryan, can you tell me what happened today?"

That got a reaction. Toby winced as the boy's thoughts became louder, flaring up in panic and fear. He saw what happened at the same time as Ryan spoke. "I pushed him."

_I killed him!_

Toby took a deep breath and concentrated again on the pulse beneath his fingers, working to block out the intense thoughts. When he'd achieved some semblance of control, he turned back to Ryan. "You were fighting?" He phrased it as a question even though he knew the answer, and at the brief nod he continued. "Then it was an accident, it's not your fault."

Ryan looked at him, disbelief in his eyes. "He was going to stop me from coming here; they didn't want me around anymore." There was a muffled sob.

"Go on," Toby prompted.

"I hit him, pushed him and he fell. He said I was just a stupid kid." The tone was bitter, but Toby felt relieved; Ryan was talking and beginning to sound more coherent. "What about your other friends? The ones that rang us?" he asked.

"They aren't my friends, they do what Richie says. They ran away."

"And you stayed," Toby added.

Ryan moved closer and looked down at his injured friend. "Am I in trouble?" he asked quietly.

Toby smiled the question. "A bit maybe, but you stayed, and probably saved his life." Toby looked at the serious expression and added, "Anyway, I thought teenage boys were always trouble?"

Ryan snuffled a little laugh. "You were a kid once," he mumbled.

Toby laughed as well. "How do you think I know? I _was_ always in trouble."

"Really?"

Toby could see Ryan's interest peak. Teenage kids seemed to be fascinated with the 'bad boy' image. He didn't think it would help the mood to go into details about his stormy childhood and the constant trail of foster homes. But he decided to throw out a few hints, if only to keep the conversation going. "Well I suppose it's nothing to be proud of, but I burnt down a few things, including a garage. I got caught breaking into a couple of places. Oh and there was an incident with a donkey at a farm park, I broke my leg in two places."

Ryan's eyes widened even more. "A donkey?"

"What donkey?" It was Oz, and Toby glanced round at him, relieved.

_Cavalry is on its way,_ Oz thought. Then, aloud, "How are you guys doing? And what donkey?"

Toby smiled. "We're doing good aren't we?" At Ryan's nod he continued, "I got into a bit of a fight with one when I was growing up; let's just say I'm not all that keen on them now."

Oz grinned at Ryan as he knelt next to Toby, nudging him to the side so he could take his place at Richie's head. "Now that's a story I have to hear." Oz glanced sideways at Toby, his expression serious. _Going to be little while partner. They need to find a good route in._

Toby nodded slightly to indicate he understood and shuffled out of Oz's way. He settled back down close just in case he was needed and then, taking in a deep breath, launched into the story.

*****************

He was just finishing his story when Toby felt them. He trailed off and looked up abruptly, peering into the darkness of the tunnel. He couldn't distinguish individual thoughts, but people, a lot of people, were getting close now. Oz was watching him closely and Toby looked back to him. "They're here."

His partner turned round in time to see the first hints of torchlight breach the darkness. "About time. Hey! Guys! Over here!" Oz stood and flashed his torch a couple of times as the figures took shape in the arch of the gloomy tunnel.

*****************

He was pretty much sidelined once the help arrived. Dispatch had sent two crews and a full fire and rescue team, and none of them had use for an injured paramedic. He shifted out the way, cautiously leaning his left side against the tunnel wall as he sat with his eyes shut, listening to Oz update everyone on the situation.

With nothing to do, the adrenaline was beginning to wear off and Toby was starting to really feel his injuries. His headache had come back with a vengeance, not helped by the growing number of people in close proximity. He didn't have the energy to try to block out all the thoughts properly, so he rested his head against the wall and focused on the feeling of the cool bricks against his temple.

"Logan? Toby." A hand touched his knee and Toby opened his eyes to see one of the paramedics, Sara Murphy, kneeling in front of him. "Hey, mind if I check you out?" She gestured to his shoulder. _God he looks out of it. Is Oz sure he isn't concussed?_

Toby took a deep breath and tried to pull himself together; his head wasn't fine but it had nothing to do with concussion, and the last thing he need right now was an overnight stay in hospital. Steeling himself, Toby smiled as her. "Go ahead; I could use a second opinion from someone who knows what they are doing."

She grinned in response and he felt her worry dissipate a bit. Her exam was quick and efficient, though a little painful. He stole a quick glance at his exposed shoulder as she dug an ice pack out of her gear and winced; it was black and very swollen.

"Not looking so good huh." She handed him the ice pack and let him judge where to hold it and how much pressure to use. "I'm going to immobilize it before we extract yo…" she paused awkwardly, "before we get the boys out."

The shock of the ice on his shoulder was helping to clear his head. "Sara, I fell down a few stairs during a call out. I'm okay, just a bit banged up." He paused, enjoying the relief the ice pack was providing. "As you guys are going to rag on me for weeks about this can we start now and get it over with sooner?"

"Not a chance, mate."

"No."

"No way partner."

There were at least four different responses, and Toby groaned, "Thanks guys". He held as still as possible as Sara fitted the brace, trying not to clench his jaw at the pain. After she was done Sara looked at him, sheepishly biting her bottom lip. "Toby…"

"I can walk," he snapped before she could offer him another option; then, realizing his mistake, he added, "If that's what you were going to ask."

She shook her head at him but didn't push the issue. "Okay then, it'll save on trips back and forth anyway."

Looking round, Toby realized that Ryan was strapped on a backboard and ready to go, and Sara's partner was waiting for them. The others were still tending to Richie and bringing in the gear needed to cut him free. He knew he was in the way, and that it made sense to ride back with the first rig, but it annoyed him that he couldn't help out. He stood slowly, hoping despite the cramp and the pain in his shoulder that he was really alright to walk. Calling out a 'see you' to Oz he nodded at the other paramedics and then followed them back through the tunnels.

A set of rescue ladders and a hoist had been erected in front of the broken wooden steps, and Toby eyed them pensively as the backboard with Ryan on it was half-carried half-hoisted up to ground level. It was a bit of a struggle with one hand, but he managed the ladders without incident. He was grateful neither Sara nor her partner, who were waiting at the top, aired their thoughts.

When he reached the top he was surprised to see bright daylight flooding the factory. The big metal doors had been opened and sunlight streamed into the decrepit old building. Toby flinched and put his free hand up to shade his eyes while they adjusted. It was strange to think it was still morning; it felt like it should be later. A quick glance at his watch told him it had only been a couple of hours since his shift started; the whole ordeal had felt like it had taken days. As they left the factory, he was even more surprised to see several uniformed police holding back a crowd of onlookers and photographers. Ignoring the shouted requests from the press, Toby cast a longing look over to his rig--which was still parked where he and Oz had left it--and then awkwardly pulled himself into the waiting ambulance.

* * *


	5. Epilogue

AN: That's it folks. Hope you've enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing it. I'm off to try and stir up some more plot bunnies.

**The Morning After - Epilogue:**

* * *

He sat in the chair on his roof space and absently itched round the edge of the brace that tightly supported his arm and shoulder. It was hard to resist the urge to take it off and go without. He'd been lucky, the X-rays and scans had all been clear: no fracture or separation. But he had some pretty impressive bruising and Olivia had warned him about ligament damage, so he consented to leaving the brace alone and playing it safe for a bit.

The sun was beginning to set, bringing what had been a bright weekend to an end. Toby stared out across the city for a while before turning his attention to the sheet of paper Oz had dropped on his lap. While he'd managed to get himself signed off work for a couple of weeks, Oz wasn't so lucky. He had copped for a half shift, as cover, this morning. That's when he'd picked up a copy of the official press statement. Toby guessed Ryder had let them have it so they knew vaguely what to expect when the local papers came out tomorrow morning. And so they knew that any negative press wasn't coming from the service.

A bottle of beer appeared over his right shoulder, and he took it gratefully. "Thanks Oz."

"So what do you think?" Oz gestured with his beer before lowering himself with a groan into his seat.

Toby raised an eyebrow. "You say this is Ryder's work? I know I was on some good pain meds Saturday afternoon but I don't remember him saying this stuff when he had a 'word' with us."

Oz laughed. "Yeah it's weird how we're 'idiots breaking procedure and trying to get ourselves killed' on Saturday, and today we're 'heroes and a credit to the service'. I reckon he's got to be schizo' or something."

"Sorry Oz, did he have much of a go at you today?" He felt genuinely guilty about not being there to take some of the stick, especially when it was his impulsiveness that had landed them in trouble in the first place.

"Nah, he'd calmed down a bit." Oz paused a second and glanced across at Toby, grinning. "Just a little bit."

They both sat and drank in silence for a short while before Toby asked, "did you get chance to see either of them?"

"Yeah, Ryan's good, the doctors reckoned he'd be discharged tomorrow. Richie?" He ducked his head and made a so-so gesture. "Not out the woods, long road to recovery etc etc. I talked to Liv though; she reckons he'll be okay in the long run. All thanks to the _heroes_ of the Toronto EMT service, right?"

Toby was shocked by the sudden bitterness in his partner's voice. "Oz man, what's wrong? Okay, we screwed up a bit, but we got them out right? That's what matters; of course Ryder wants to paint it rosy for press."

Oz gestured to the press release again, his tone serious. "The thing is, that's a lie, isn't it. I mean the bit about it being 'part of the job',and that any crew would have done the same. We were ready to leave, if it wasn't for… Well, any other crew would have left, _I would have left_."

Toby sighed, suddenly understanding. The simple fact was if they had left it would have been hours before either of the boys was reported missing. The likelihood was that one or both of them would have been dead before they were found. The thought that had been buoying Toby since Liv had dropped him home Saturday night was that for once using his gift had resulted in happy consequences. But from Oz's point of view… well, Toby remembered just how useless he felt as the rescue teams worked on extracting the boys. It wasn't a good feeling.

He looked up at Oz. "We had luck on our…"

Oz interrupted him. "We had _you_ man, that's what we had. If I'd been on that call with Murphy or someone else, we'd have left..."

"Hey, don't put this on yourself Oz," Toby said and then shook his head in annoyance as Oz tried to continue. "Those kids shouldn't have been down there, the boys that rung in should have stayed, the security company should have been making sure that building was secure. What happened or _might_ have happened is not your fault."

"Yeah, right," Oz said before taking a deep swig of his beer. He didn't sound convinced.

Toby sighed tiredly. "Look Oz, I would have left too."

"But…"

"No buts, I was about to leave. If it hadn't been for that 'hit' I would have left." Toby awkwardly pulled his chair close to Oz, facing him down.

"But you got the hit."

Toby leaned forward, trying to get the message through to his partner. "Yes, but that's not something I control. It's random; a freak chance. Heck I don't know what it is, or how it works, but if it hadn't happened I would have left. I would have left Oz, and I wouldn't even have searched properly. I'd have strode into that factory, 'felt' around a bit, and then I would've been convinced we were alone and I'd have left."

"No you wouldn't, I know you." Oz was adamant.

"Yes you know me, what was it you put in that report about me? _Impulsive_, _erratic._" His partner started to interrupt, but Toby held up a hand to stop him. "You know I would have left. Anyone else would have searched thoroughly, probably found the back room, then rung it in, and got backup or at least advice."

"I don't believe that," Oz denied it with as shake of his head, but Toby could tell he was starting to consider it as a possibility.

He hesitated, considering just how much he should admit to. "You know what the worst thing is? Now that you know what I can do, I would have been able to convince you to leave as well."

"No…"

"I convinced you to follow me down there without calling it in," Toby countered.

"Toby…" Oz started, but Toby interrupted, determined to get his message through.

"Look Oz, I'm not getting at you. It's me, the way I fling myself into things without thinking. I'm not some superhero. Sometimes I take the things I read at face value. I could use some backup from someone who doesn't."

Oz nodded slowly in agreement. "So you weren't joking the other night. It turns out I really am the brains of this operation." He took a couple of long swigs of his beer. "I've got your back man."

They drank in silence for a few minutes before Toby gestured to his shoulder. "I definitely need someone to watch my back."

"Hey, I had your back then."

Toby rubbed his shoulder deliberately. "You were watching my back, huh?"

Oz looked at him and grinned. "Oh yeah I was watching your back. Your back, and the rest of you as it went bang! Plummeting down a set of steps."

"Very funny Oz. Thank you," Toby replied sarcastically.

"You know what though? I should have realized yesterday that you aren't a superhero," Oz said, sounding deadly serious.

Toby looked at Oz suspiciously, not sure where he was going with this. "Why?"

"Well, we all know superheroes can fly, right?"

"Oz no... Oz don't." Suddenly picking up on the direction of his partner's thoughts, Toby tried to head him off.

"Seriously, you've got the flying thing down man but..."

"Oz please, don't say it," Toby warned.

But Oz was on a roll now and just shook his head at Toby. "The flying is nearly there man, but you've just got to…"

"…nail those landings?" Toby interrupted, taking the words exactly from Oz's mind while trying not to start laughing.

Oz could barely talk he was giggling so hard, clearly pleased with the joke, but he managed to gasp out, "That's right, just got to nail those landings."

Toby frowned at his nearly empty beer; neither of them had to work tomorrow and Oz had restocked his fridge. It was going to be a long night.

* * *


End file.
